


Make Me, Break Me

by TheCarrot



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Blood and Swearing, Episode: s01e12 Code Breaker, Even though Peter never actually stays dead, M/M, Mentions Canon Death, Sleeping and everything else important in my life, Stiles' crazy thoughts about Peter, The Bite that almost was, Wrote this when i should have been doing, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:53:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/pseuds/TheCarrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn’t say anything about the way his heart won’t stop pounding, about the way he doesn’t so much as drop down next to Lydia’s prone form under Peter as much as his legs give out from underneath him, no longer able to support his weight in the face of such raw mad power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Me, Break Me

**Author's Note:**

> I Fail.

Stiles doesn’t say anything about the way his heart won’t stop pounding, about the way he doesn’t so much as drop down next to Lydia’s prone form under Peter as much as his legs give out from underneath him, no longer able to support his weight in the face of such raw mad power.

It’s the blood that brings him back, makes him focus on keeping Lydia alive, makes him try and get her help, even if that help is Jackson. He can smell the iron in the air and it makes him sick. He rises to his feet, a claw under his chin to propel him up and the next thing Stiles knows he’s peering into crystal blue eyes rimmed in red. The claw on his skin is warm, it’s contrasting but oddly comfortable against the chill settling into his bones from the lacrosse field. His mind changes though when he remembers that that claw might have been dug into Lydia’s skin mere moments ago, and that’s the reason it’s warm. 

Stiles barely gets a hand around Peter’s wrist, to push him away, or to pull that warmth closer he’s not sure, because as much as his instincts are telling him to run,run,run… something burning inside of him is making him stay,stay,stay... It’s like a flare inside of him and he can’t look away from the blue, red eyes, looking down at him. The way they’re staring at him makes him shiver. It’s nothing like the brief glimpse he got that night in the school with Scott. Stiles had never told Scott, but as he kneeled on that desk propped up against the doorway, he had gotten his look at something far beyond anything he could ever imagine. 

He drives them down the highway, the roads pretty much clear at this time of night and Stiles can’t help but feel something settle inside of himself. It shouldn’t, he knows this, Stiles knows he should be flinging open the door to his jeep now that he’s drawn Peter away from Lydia, and jumping to freedom. But he can’t and he doesn’t know why. Stiles keeps glancing out of the corner of his eye to now flawless stretch of skin on Peter’s cheek and wonders to himself just what that vanity cost the Alpha. 

Stiles wants to just keep driving, get both himself and Peter out of town and away from the complete clusterfuck he thinks Beacon Hills is going to become, but he pulls over to the parking garage instead. Lydia and Scott are waiting for him, are counting on him and no matter that his skin tightens when Peter pulls him, when he pushes him around, it doesn’t matter at all that when Peter puts his wrist to his lips, to his fangs, everything in Stiles is crying out yes, but his lips say no, and it does come out as a lie, because stiles does want it. He wants to feel that sharp, sharp pressure dig into his skin, into his veins…into his entire being. 

But Peter walks away and part of Stiles feels like it’s walking away with him. His common sense is telling him to get a grip, but the something inside him that reacts to Peter, like it’s never reacted to anyone, not even Lydia, is trying to break its way out of him and Stiles has to force it down until he’s almost sick with the effort. 

The bent keys dig into his fingers and the teeth are almost sharp enough to draw blood. He wonders if it might count, the teeth of keys that Peters bent out of shape; he wonders if that might quell the rolling fire inside of him if he lets them cut into him. 

It’s like he’s on automatic for the rest of the night, he’s worried about Lydia, about Scott, about Allison and how his father looks at him with a mix of disbelief and horror. Stiles’ doesn’t remember mixing the cocktail but he remembers the weight of it in his hands, he remembers the way it felt flying from his hand.

As he stands there and watches Peter burn, all Stiles can think of is, ‘I did that, I did that, ididthat…’ he feels a wave of nausea roll over him when the flames go out an nothing but the human version of Peter is left. It’s like a cold knife getting dragged across his own throat as Derek steals the Alpha power away from his Uncle. 

‘I did that,’ Stiles turns to the side and vomits besides Jackson’s Porsche trying to drown out the crumbling fire inside his chest and he has to clutch at his wrist because the ghostly feeling of Peters hand on his is slowly starting to fade away.


End file.
